


Puppy-Dog Tails

by McVetty



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Blood Kink, M/M, No Beta, PWP, Sexy times interrupted by everyday happenings, Sorry Not Sorry, dom!stiles, story when you least expect it
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-10-09
Updated: 2012-10-19
Packaged: 2017-11-15 23:33:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,139
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/532993
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/McVetty/pseuds/McVetty
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It started one day, and it just didn't stop.</p><p>(A collection of Sterek drabbles NSFW.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Fingers pressed tightly against the back of his neck, rough stubble scraping against his chin, firm lips and slick tongue invading his mouth. Stiles whimpered, chest fluttering, hands flying to the dark fabric, scrabbling for a grip as his knees shook. A hand pressed firmly against his chest, keeping his back to the wall. He didn’t struggle, he couldn’t, it had happened so suddenly, he only trembled beneath the touch, heart racing, a fire trickling through his gut to his groin.

Teeth raked against his lip, and he shuddered, inhaled sharply. The hand on his chest shifted, moved to grip his shoulder. His knees nearly knocked together, and he let out a pathetic, quiet moan.

As suddenly as it started, it was over.

Derek Hale stepped back, breaking all contact. Stiles yelped, nearly sliding down the wall, catching himself with shaky hands. A pregnant pause filled the air, charged and uneasy. Stiles pushed himself up, opening and closing his mouth, trying to form words and only managing to get out ‘uh’ before Derek shoved him against the wall, pointing a finger in his face, a threatening sneer across his lips.

“Don’t ever tell anyone I kissed you.”

Stiles opened his mouth. Closed it. Opened it again.

Derek jabbed his finger into Stiles’ cheek none-too-gently. “Not a word, to anyone, or I will tear you apart.”

Stiles squirmed under Derek’s hand, avoiding his eyes. “Okay! Okay,” he said defensively. He hesitated before adding, in a mumble, “I won’t tell anyone if you want to do it again, either.”


	2. Something Feral

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There is a hidden dark side to the relationship they are courting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In which "drabble" doesn't quite suffice for how awfully LONG THIS IS AND HOW LONG IT TOOK, OK

Things between them escalated quickly.

What started as stolen kisses, bruised lips, and aching shoulder blades turned into something more in record time (at least for Stiles, who'd really never _done_ this kind of thing before). He'd never bothered to ask Derek if he thought they were moving fast, but then, he didn't ask Derek Hale much at all, which had a _lot_ to do with the burning intensity behind his feral eyes. Derek's interest in physical interactions outweighed his interest in more social, talkative ones, which Stiles found disconcerting more often than not, but he enjoyed the moments when he was in them, so the semi-silent treatment he could stand. And, anyway, Derek came around every once in a while and managed to utter complete sentences in what could be called _conversation._

Stiles had never thought about his sexuality - at least not very hard and not for very long periods of time. He liked to maintain that he was a kid, or at least a childish teenager, who had better things to do than necking in the back of a car. It may, or may definitely, have had something to do with being shot down by all the girls he had ever shown interest in. Mainly Lydia, if he was going to be technical about it, but he liked to think there had been scores of other girls, and. yeah, that was it. So when Derek had kissed him - suddenly, passionately, and possessively - after one of their increasingly dangerous exploits into the weird world of werewolves, Stiles rolled with it.

Stiles liked it, too, and maybe that was half the problem.

The _problem_ , of course, currently being the wooden bed frame digging into the small of his back, and Derek's hands all over him, and their rumpled, partially discarded clothing that still lingered. Somehow, Stiles' long sleeve shirt had been half-forgotten in the heat of the moment, and he had ended up with one arm loose while the other (and his head, still) were stuck in the deep-blue fabric. Derek had, at least, managed to pull his pants off properly during the disrobing process. Underwear wasn't a problem, as Stiles had gone commando that morning, and probably a damn good thing for it or he might be half-in and half-out of those, too.

Derek himself managed to be bare-chested, his belt hanging from the loops and the button of his dark jeans popped. His cock pressed right up against the fabric, tight and hard and eager, but he didn't seem to be paying _himself_ much attention. One thing about Hale that Stiles learned early was his damn _patience_ for these sort of things. It drove Stiles to rather embarrassing moments of pleading, but in the heat of the moment, it was forgivable, and once, Derek had called it sexy, so Stiles let it slide. Especially since Derek was rather good at what he did and even better at acting like it never happened afterwords. Stiles was still trying to figure out if that was a virtue or not.

Derek's fingertips traced heavy patterns over Stiles' skin, skirting around his hard cock, sliding along his thighs, rubbing over his hips, hitting every point of near return. Stiles shifted, straining to ease the pressure on his back and the aching in his painfully ignored cock and getting neither. Derek bent over him, one hand braced against the bed, the other gripping Stiles' rumpled shirt and tugging him forward, mashing their lips together, and the younger had to suppress a half-moan, half-hiss. The bed frame pressed further into his back with Derek's weight, and Stiles yelped, loudly, catching Derek off guard. They paused, a strange silence falling over them.

"Why is this here?" Derek asked finally, tugging the shirt in his fist as if just realizing it had escaped his stripping session.

"Someone's a bit impatient," Stiles answered as he wiggled beneath Derek, trying to get his back off the frame. He winced, breathing sharply. "For future reference, in case you care, your bed frame is killing me."

Derek shifted back, gripped Stiles by his rear and lifted him onto the bed, earning a surprised gasp. "Better?" he asked, leaning over him.

Stiles nipped Derek's nose. "Thank you, my white knight," he answered dramatically.

They were polar opposites.

Derek rolled his gray eyes, which not twenty minutes before had been a fawn-like shade of tan, and lifted Stiles' legs up to drop onto his broad shoulders, a disapproving look on his face. "Don't do that," he chided, leaving no room for argument. Partly because he could boss Stiles around, and partly because he kissed him right at that moment. His tongue didn't ask permission, pushing through Stiles' lips, caressing his lover's mouth, tasting him. Derek undid his jeans with one hand, pulling out his cock and nudging it against Stiles, pressing skin to skin, the zipper of his jeans rubbing against Stiles' thighs. Derek took the younger's dick in his hand, sliding off slowly as he bit down on Stiles' lower lip, that devilish look on his face.

" _Oh_ ," Stiles gasped, breathing heavily.

Derek pressed one hand against Stiles' shoulder, let a fleeting kiss pass between their lips, and fumbled on the nightstand for the bottle of lube. He knocked it over, swayed trying to catch it, and lost balance, only saved by Stiles' hands on his chest holding him up. He grunted, and Stiles tried not to laugh beneath him.

"Are you trying to crush me?" he asked, his liquid-amber eyes looking up at Derek accusingly.

"Hardly," Derek answered, pushing himself up to snatch the lube from the floor beside the bed. He straightened up between Stiles' legs, keeping them on his shoulders. He eyed the teenager for a second before gesturing to his shirt. "Take that off."

"Take your pants off."

"No."

"Then the shirt stays," Stiles replied smugly.

Derek, in the process of uncapping the lube, paused, an eyebrow quirking slightly. "Seriously?"

Stiles nodded.

"Okay."

Derek snapped the cap back onto the lube, setting it to the side. Bending, his tongue licked along Stiles' cock, slow and deliberate, flicking over the tip, the familiar taste sending a shiver down his spine. He took it between his lips, just lightly, tongue swirling around the tip. Stiles hitched, hissing through his teeth as Derek slid slick fingers over his hole. Derek shifted to kneel on the bedspread and bend over Stiles, pressing their lips together forcefully as he worked one finger around his entrance, carefully and deliberately, sending shivers through Stiles' body.

If you had asked Stiles, right then, what sport he played, he would have been completely unable to tell you.

His body arched to the touches, he whimpered into Derek's mouth, muffled and desperate. One finger slid into him, stroking, teasing, followed by another, as Derek's tongue licked along his lips hungrily. Stiles tensed and relaxed, breathing heavily between kisses, shifting his hips with Derek's fingers, hands raking through Derek's thick dark hair, tugging and pulling. Derek's fingers moved in a slow rhythm, deliberate and precise, spreading and stroking and bringing little moans and gasps from Stiles' throat as he tried to keep himself from begging. Derek bit Stiles' lip, trailed rough, stubble-tinged kisses down the younger's throat, nipped at his collarbone. Stiles grit his teeth, breath hissing with every suppressed moan. Derek carefully traced Stiles' nipple with his tongue, sucking

" _Oh, g-_ " Stiles left off with a gasp, closing his eyes and trying not to look too desperate as he shifted towards Derek's fingers.

Derek Hale smiled - not that anyone saw it, which is the only reason he did. He removed his fingers, grabbing for the lube again as Stiles groaned in pathetic protest at their absence. He wanted to say, "hang on," except Stiles was already stroking his own cock, making little moans at the back of his throat. If anyone wanted a picture of Derek smiling, they just had to see him at moments like this. Then, of course, he'd have to kill them.

Before he could uncap the lube (really ought to keep it uncapped anyway, but last time...), Stiles was palming his cock and his eyelids fluttered for a moment, nearly forgetting himself. It wasn't hard, to forget himself, when Stiles' hands were on him and he was melting into a relaxation he rarely felt. He let a pleasurable hum vibrate through him, his muscles tensing and relaxing. Snapping out of it by force, he grabbed Stiles' wrist with one hand, pinning him to the bed.

"No," he said sternly.

Stiles was grinning, that stupid sort of grin of someone far too relaxed. He took Derek's cock in his free hand, batting his eyelashes at his lover as Derek's breath stuttered and his body twitched. "Yes," he answered breathlessly.

Derek snatched Stiles' other wrist, pinning them both above his head with one hand. "No," he repeated, eying the younger as he struggled halfhearted against the grip. Derek grabbed the lube, flipping the cap off one-handed and applying the right amount to his palm. When he dropped it, the bottle rolled off, most likely to leak all over the sheets (again) but Derek didn't mind. He grabbed himself, shifting as he held Stiles down, and guided the tip to Stiles' entrance. He pushed, letting a low sound slip through his lips, feeling the hairs on the back of his neck tingle. Stiles moaned, pushing up and closing his eyes. Slowly, carefully, and with far more gentleness than anyone thought him capable of, Derek pushed further into his eager lover. Their breathing was erratic as Derek pulled out, pushing back in deeper each time. Stiles bit his lip, a moaning whimper growing at the back of his throat as he pushed back, shuddering with every beat of his heart.

"Oh, _g-_ just- _ah!_ " Stiles exhaled sharply, amber eyes rolling back. "Don't make- _ohh-_ me say-" he stopped with a moan, stuffed his hand against his mouth to stifle it.

"Say _what_?" Derek asked, accentuating both words with a tiny thrust.

"P- _please_ , that one," Stiles answered shakily, around the flat of his hand.

Derek leaned over his lover, pressing deep inside, his legs shaking slightly. "If you say so," he whispered against Stiles' palm, nosing his hand away to seal it with a hungry kiss. He freed Stiles' hands, and they immediately went to his face, pulling him deeper into the kiss as Stiles rocked his hips. Derek responded slowly, keeping the rhythm steady, Stiles trembling with every movement. Stiles' hands fell away from Derek's face, dropping to the sheets, twisting and tugging against them. Derek pulled back from the kiss, increasing the rhythm as Stiles' legs trembled, draped over his shoulders. The thrusts grew deeper, more intense, and Stiles' moans became louder. His right leg began trembling, twitching and rising to stretch above Derek's head. Derek chuckled, trying not to outright laugh mostly to save face and partially to keep the mood.

Stiles shuddered, opening his eyes. "What's so funny?" he asked breathlessly.

Derek kissed Stiles' calf, nipping slightly. "I love when you do that," he answered with a rare smile.

"Shut up and fuck me," Stiles groaned, dropping his head back against the bed.

Derek pulled out at the command, grunting as he flipped Stiles over. The younger protested for a second, flailing against the change until Derek pushed into him again, and he moaned loudly into the blankets, going a startling shade of crimson at his loud outburst. Derek picked up the rhythm, thrusting harder as Stiles' moans rose in intensity. Stiles reached out for something to grab, hooking around the pillow and pulling it towards him and biting down. Derek bent over, his hand running over Stiles' short hair, down the side of his face, finally gripping tight around his shoulder. His thrusts became harder, his teeth bit down on the back of Stiles' neck, his grip tightened. A low growl started in his chest, rumbling to the back of his throat, growing in intensity with his thrusts.

Stiles stiffened, lifting his head at the noise. " _Dude_ ," he gasped, a panic ringing his voice. "Derek, you're not going wolf on me – _dammit!_ " He was breathless, speaking through gritted teeth, heart hammering in his chest. One hand reached back, grabbing at Derek's hair, pulling hard. Another growl slipped through, and the teeth on the back of his neck bit harder, sending a white-hot flare of pain down his spine. "Derek!" Stiles shouted, yanking a handful of hair.

The growl rippled through Derek's chest, vibrating into Stiles' lungs, before it led off in a choked grunt. Derek stopped thrusting, his body still, his breathing hot and heavy and _feral_. Hot liquid dribbled down Stiles' neck, over his shoulder blades and down his chest. Derek breathed out heavily, holding the exhale for a terribly silent moment. After what seemed like a lifetime, Stiles let go of Derek's hair, and Derek took his teeth from Stiles' neck. His tongue licked over the wound, lapping up he iron taste of blood, following the trail until Stiles' back was smeared red.

Stiles was shaking, unsteady beneath Derek's weight. Removing his hand from Stiles' shoulder, Derek felt for Stiles' half-hard cock, rubbing his thumb over the tip gently, feeling Stiles tense around him. Derek licked the bite gently, pumping Stiles' cock in his hand, and shifted inside him, beginning slowly. Stiles moaned, burying his face in the pillow, his body relaxing. Derek moved faster, straightened himself up for a better position. Stiles' hand touched his, around his cock, and Derek started to move his hand. Stiles stopped him, wrapped shaky fingers around his, and urged Derek on. Thrusts worked harder, into a crescendo as Stiles gasped, moaned, and called Derek's name into the pillow.

Derek felt himself reaching his peak, bit down hard on his lip as he focused on moving in a quick, hard rhythm, working Stiles' cock at the same pace, as steady as the pair could manage. Stiles cried out, shuddering as he came, slicking Derek's hands with hot cum, getting it on the bed, over the sheets. Derek pumped in harder, losing his rhythm as he came inside Stiles. He collapsed over Stiles' back, a shiver running through his body, as Stiles trembled beneath him. Their heavy breathing slowed, until only Stiles panted beneath him, dizzy and shivering. Derek pulled out slowly, rolling onto his side and pulling Stiles' back to him, running his tongue over the drying blood.

"Sorry," he mumbled, and Stiles knew he would never get a clearer apology out of the man.

Stiles picked at the cum on the bed, making a face at it as if he could convince it to leave. Derek's tongue over his back sent tiny aftershocks through his bones, and he hummed appreciatively. Later, he would feel the throbbing, angry bruise on the back of his neck, and maybe even have to explain it to Scott, but for now the warmth and aftereffects were enough for him. His eyes fell on the open bottle of lube, slowly dripping a pool onto the sheets. "Oh god," he groaned.

Derek's tongue stopped moving, he pressed his stubble-covered cheek against Stiles' neck. "Hmm?"

Stiles pushed the bottle off the bed with a lazy hand. It clattered to the floor. "You did it again. The lube. You need to stop that."

"Mmm," Derek responded, the sound traveling through him and into Stiles' chest, where it sent yet more warm tingles through the teenager's body.

“For next time,” Stiles said, shivering and yawning at the same time. He curled closer to Derek, allowing the so-called feral beast to lay against his back and trace lazy circles with his tongue like some kind of domesticated cat. In the mid-afternoon sun, they lay together in the bed, quiet in their company, waiting the right amount of time before going back to the real world.


	3. Under Pressure

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Because, you know, first times aren't stressful enough

Everything he knows about this relationship they’ve been cultivating over the last few months tells him this isn’t how it should be going. So maybe he’s a little nervous, maybe his fingers are numb and his movements are a little more mechanical than they usually are. Anyone is bound to be nervous with Derek Hale in such a compromising position. First off, it’s Derek Fucking Hale, werewolf, and if he wanted, at any moment, he could rip Stiles’ throat out and hide the body pretty damn well. Second off, well, it’s Derek Hale and Stiles had pretty much been thinking - scratch that, add fantasizing - about this particular moment since he first laid hands on the werewolf. Stiles had a habit of thinking about people for a while, very intently, and those people had a habit of ignoring his pining looks and his cleverly disguised attempts to date them as simply Stiles being… well… Stiles.

Derek had seen right through him, and Stiles thought it had to be the weird werewolfy thing he had going on. Either way, it landed him here, in his own bedroom (what a weird twist), with Derek Hale, a bottle of dollar-store lubricant, a strip of condoms from the local Planned Parenthood, and a wholly new appreciation for the things leather jackets and tight jeans did for his sanity. In short, what was under the leather and jeans was more than Stiles had bargained for, and he had been too busy gaping at a naked Derek Hale to realize the question that had been put forth as the items were scattered into his bed and the clothing (at least on Derek’s side) was lost.

Stiles had to ask him to repeat the question. Derek wasn’t amused.

“Are you going to stare at me,” Derek repeated slowly, “or are you going to fuck me?”

He had half a mind to ask if Derek was sure he got that right, but that murderous look in the werewolf’s eye told Stiles not to argue, and hey, that’s how he ended up here, like this, shivering awkwardly despite the warm summer night, trying to will his body to do what he wanted it to because, okay, Derek Hale had brought over lube and condoms and asked him to do certain things he had only dreamed of… and, well, Stiles was feeling a bit overwhelmed and his body was feeling a bit underprepared because when had he ever got what he wanted?

Apparently tonight was his night.

Stiles fumbled awkwardly with the condom wrapper, leaning back to sit on his heels. his erection slowly dying and his cheeks turning an alarming shade of pink. Derek gave him a few seconds to stew in the embarrassment before snorting and grabbing the package, ripping it open with his teeth, and oh god Stiles didn’t want to think about those teeth because as sexy as they were, they could rip him apart and that would definitely kill the mood. He was significantly pleased to find out that thinking about Derek’s teeth did anything but kill the mood, as Derek took the condom from the wrapper and put his lips around Stiles’ half-hard cock and, oh god, Stiles flailed, one hand bracing himself and his other tangling thin fingers through Derek’s messy hair. Then Derek’s lips were gone, his teeth nipping lightly along Stiles’ thigh as his hands worked the condom over Stiles’ cock and just as Stiles was really beginning to lose himself to the moment, Derek grabbed his face in both hands.

“Fuck me,” he growled, and Stiles nearly yelped.

Actually he did yelp, but to keep his manly face he demanded Derek not to mention it later, not that he thought Derek was going to admit to being fucked by Stiles in the first place.

Derek didn’t seem too picky on position, and easily enough turned himself over and tried his best not to yell at Stiles too much for his painful incompetence when it came to the finer art of sexing. Derek dropped his head into the blankets, sighing dramatically as Stiles fumbled with his cock and the angle and finally, Derek reached back to put a hand on Stiles’ thigh.

“Calm down, I can hear your heartbeat like a bass drum,” he said.

“Right, yeah, calm down when there’s an alpha werewolf in my bedroom demanding me to fuck him,” Stiles said, his voice a few octaves higher than usual. “Not like doing something wrong wont get me maimed or, better yet, killed!”

Derek hitched, holding back a laugh. “Just calm down, Stiles. I’ll only kill you if you don’t give me what I want.”

“Very reassuring.”

“I hoped so.” 

Stiles was still shaking, but he moved with a bit more confidence. As he entered Derek, the alpha tensed. Stiles stopped moving.

“What are you doing?”

“You-“

“Is this your first time?” Derek asked suddenly. He got no response. “Oh, wow, it is, isn’t it?”

“Yes, it is, and there’s a lot more pressure than I had been warned about,” Stiles retorted. “I don’t think I ever heard a virginity-losing story with a life-or-death outcome.”

Derek shifted himself back, into Stiles’ cock, slowly and patiently. “I’m not going to hurt you,” he said in the most reassuring voice he could manage. To Stiles, it could be better, but he figured he has to take what he can get. Derek seemed to realize that because he added, “Relax.”

Stiles shivered, moving with Derek, each movement going deeper, with Derek’s hand on his thigh, that dark hair tossed so carelessly against the pillow, his muscular back tensing and releasing, his tattoo moving like liquid across his shoulder blades. Stiles pushed into a rhythm, his eyes closing, lips parted, moaning quietly, and he’d never felt quite so good about anything before, except maybe lacrosse but that was comparing apples and firetrucks.

Stiles gasped, his breath stuttering and his rhythm faltering, and oh great, he was going to be one of those embarrassing cases of premature ejaculation. “Ahh, Derek I-“

Derek groaned, his grip on Stiles’ thigh tightening. “That’s fine,” he breathed.

Stiles didn’t think so, at least not entirely, but that unfortunately wasn’t about to stop him. His hands were gripped tight to Derek’s buttocks, thrusts sporadic as he came, a decidedly unmanly, contented moaning gasp escaping his lips. He shivered through his whole body, pulled out and peeled the condom away to toss it in the trash. Once done, he let himself fall to the bed, his breathing shaky. 

Derek kissed him, turning over on his side, working his cock with one hand, the other going to Stiles’ face, and if he hadn’t already came Stiles would have done so, again, because there was something undeniably sexy about the way that Derek kissed him while touching himself, something about the way his lips moved and his face seemed completely devoid of murderous intent. Stiles made a mental note to please the alpha more on the condition that murderous stares would decline. Derek’s moan was soft and small and very not-Derek as he came, shivering against Stiles’ lips. He wiped his hand on the sheets, then pulled Stiles close into a tight embrace.

“Not bad for a first time,” Derek grumbled.

“No? You think? I mean I think I could have-“

Derek cut him off with a glare.

Stiles gulped. “Right, shutting up now.”


End file.
